


Probatio

by PolarisTheYoungWolf



Series: El Lobo Ladrón de Nueva Roma [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Deaton is the a demigod, Deaton is the son of Apollo, Fourth Cohort's animal is the wolf, Mysterious Deaton, Post-The Blood of Olympus, Roman son of Mercury, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sheriff is a Demigod, Stile is the Fourth Cohort, Stiles heads off to Camp Jupiter, Stiles is a Legacy of Mercury, Stiles learns about his Roman background, Stiles prepares to train with Lupa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarisTheYoungWolf/pseuds/PolarisTheYoungWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles was a little kid he always wondered about his father's tattoo. The way his father was, tattoos had never made sense for him. On the right side of his father's arm were the letters SPQR with a Caduceus symbol above it, and six bar lines under it. </p>
<p>When Stiles gets hurt and the pack wasn't there to help, the Sheriff decides it's time Stiles learned about his tattoo...and about his own legacy as the grandson of Mercury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Legacy of Mercury

 

When Stiles was a little kid he always wondered about his father's tattoo. The way his father was, tattoos had never made sense for him to have and it was only that one. On the right side of his father's arm were the letters SPQR with a Caduceus symbol above it, and six bar lines under it. Though it had many elements his father explained that it was one in its entirety. And that was all his father ever said on the matter. Even after he stopped asking, having hundreds if not thousands of other things to ask about, ever the curious little one, Stiles always wondered.

 

When he was a little older and his mother passed he once caught his father crying and staring very angrily at his tattoo, like it had been the blame for his mommy getting sick and leaving them. For months after his mother's death, his dad always wore long sleeved shirts, even if it was really hot. Or he wore a band over the Caduceus symbol. Stiles was very curious as to why but whenever he was about to ask, the sadness in his father's eyes stopped him.

 

Soon after he simply accepted it was another part of his father and stopped asking. Stopped thinking about it.

 

When he got involved with Werewolves and Hunters and the supernatural world in general, Stiles didn't think that tattoo would ever be relevant again. Until it was.

 

There was a rift between him and the others. When Scott wasn't busy with Allison, he was with Derek on Werewolf business. The Sourwolf had made it exceptionally clear that Stiles only tolerated for his connection with Scott despite how much Stiles has helped. Something no one seems to really notice or be grateful about. He was just the use less human trying desperately to keep up and in their eyes was failing pathetically.

 

Meetings happened without him. Training didn't involve him. What hurt most was that non-supernatural, non-training, just hanging out as normal teenager things happened and he was left out.

 

During one of those just normal people things that everyone, even Derek went to, that Stiles was on his own. All he heard was a rustle in the bushes before an ominously strong wind blew by and blinded him and threw him over. He felt claws and saw talons and felt beaks with razor sharp fangs. Stiles couldn't remember if he had the time to scream and idly wondered how it could hurt so much when it happened so fast. Just before he passed out from agony, the pain began to subside and rather than taste blood he tasted his favorite drink; hot chocolate. It was so bizarre because he hasn't drank hot chocolate since his mother passed. Her recipe was the best and always made him feel safe and warm, and though he's tried a few after, to try and get some memories of her back, it was never the same.

 

When he woke up he was in his room. Sitting up on his bed he looks up to see his father standing on the end of the bed staring down at him. His eyes were hard set and sad, his body was rigid and his arms crossed over his chest. He was in his uniform and Stiles looked at the clock wondering if it had been a dream and his dad just got back from his shift.

 

“Stiles...we need to talk.”

 

“Um...okay but first you won't believe this really...narly dream I had. It was so real...” Stiles began but his father raised his hand to stop him.

 

“It wasn't a dream. You were attacked by Harpies,” the Sheriff said evenly.

 

“What?! For real! Holy crap I got to warn-wait I mean...Harpies? Dad...Harpies aren't real. I mean, come on,” Stiles scoffed and tried to play it off while panicking and thinking about the pack.

 

“They're as real as the Hales are Werewolves, and now Scott and some of your other friends too, right?” the Sheriff asked and all Stiles could do was gawk at him and work his mouth like a fish out of water. The Sheriff sighed as he pulled up Stiles computer desk chair and sat down, “That's a good a place as any to begin I suppose. I've always known about the Hale Pack...it's why I chose Beacon Hills as my place to live.”

 

“...what?” was the only thing Stiles could think to ask.

 

Rather than say anything first, the Sheriff raised his sleeve to reveal his tattoo, “Remember when you used to ask me about this and I never gave you a straight answer?”

 

Stiles nodded, all the memories of him bugging his father about it as a child, and even trying to get his mother to ask for him and still never getting an answer.

 

“It's Roman...it's an initialism from a Latin phrase, _**S**_ _enatus_ _ **P**_ _opulus_ _ **q**_ _ue_ _ **R**_ _omanus_ , which was the motto of the Roman Empire and translates to "The Senate and People of Rome". It links together the original struggles between the senators, the people of Rome, and the early Roman Empire.” the Sheriff explains and Stiles listens intently, finally able to solve a long cold case of his childhood, though he was very confused by...well, everything. 

 

“And the Caduceus symbol? And the bar lines?” Stiles asked as he pointed to those respectively.

 

The Sheriff sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, “The bars represent the years of service to the Roman Legion...and the symbol above represent...my father.”

 

“...Legion? Your father? I...I am very confused. I know it's normal but this...and don't think I forgot about the whole you knowing about Derek's family. Explain!” Stiles demanded.

 

“My father is Mercury, the Roman counterpart of the Greek God, Hermes. And as his son, I am a demigod.” the Sheriff said and waited for Stiles reaction. 

 

“...seriously?”

 

The Sheriff nodded.

 

“But...isn't Hermes the god of Thieves? You're a cop!” Stiles cried.

 

The Sheriff grinned slightly, “Technically the same deity but different attributes depending if you're Greek or Roman. My Greek brothers and sisters are more cunning and sly, like Hermes. Mercury is more disciplined, militaristic, and warlike.”

 

“...you're disciplined, but I wouldn't call you warlike.” Stiles said lightly, scooting closer to his dad to get a closer look at the tattoo. He graces his finger over it lightly before looking up and tilting his head to the side, “Why didn't you tell me before?”

 

“Being aware of what you are makes your scent more profound. When I moved away from New Rome, I chose Beacon Hills because the Hales have been here for generations. Their werewolf scent was so strong here, it would mask my scent. When your mother got pregnant with you, hoped it would mask your scent completely since you weren't a direct child of a god...I never thought you get so involved with the Hales since I didn't much until the fire...”

 

“New Rome?” Stiles asked after a moment. 

 

The Sheriff nodded, “It's in San Francisco. Camp Jupiter...once you complete your service and prove your worth to the legion you gain entry to New Rome. It's a really awesome place. A mix of old Rome and new Western styles. Traditional meets modern...safe for people like us. People who are different.”

 

“Why did you leave?” Stiles asked quietly.

 

“I was on a quest when I ran into this girl...and I swear Cupid struck me right then and there. I made my case with the legion and went out into the world. I wooed Claudia and was the happiest until the day she told me she was pregnant. As a demigod, there is always that fear of dying in the line of battle, of never getting that happy ending...but at that moment, I had it.” The Sheriff had this far off look in his eye and it made Stiles smile with happiness but his heart ache as he thinks of his mother long before her illness hit her.

 

“Is that why you became a cop? Because it was like... _in_ you to be a Roman Demigod soldier?” Stiles asked. 

 

The Sheriff shook his head. “I may be Roman but my father is still who he is. I wasn't always interested in being in law enforcement. It was against my nature. But then...then your mother got sick. My father is one of the gods of healing and medicine...hell, his friggen symbol is plastered all over hospitals and medicine logos and it didn't matter how much I begged him to save her...he didn't.” the Sheriff paused as he swallowed thickly. Closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath through his nose, “I became a cop because it was the only thing I could think of that would piss him off. To live as honest a life as I could...”

 

Stiles had tears in his eyes threatening to fall and he launched himself and hugged the hell out of his father. His dad returned the hug just as tight. When they separated the Sheriff cupped Stiles face and smiled sadly at him, “They found you Stiles...”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

 

“Just because you're not a direct child of Mercury doesn't mean his presence isn't in you. You're very much his blood...and all these things you've done since Scott's turning, they count as experience...your scent is getting stronger...” the Sheriff explains and the look in his eyes was saying more than he was.

 

“What is it dad?” Stiles coaxed.

 

“...I dread thinking of the trouble you'll get into. I worry more than you'll ever know but...I also know that this is the best option.”

 

“Dad?” Stiles as uncertainly.

 

“You'll be going to Camp Jupiter. Trained properly. Learn about your powers and grow and become stronger than you'll ever imagine.” the Sheriff promised proudly. Though he feared the dangers that awaited his son, he couldn't help but feel pride like a Roman would.

 

“...I...when....what?” Stiles thought he was confused before, but now...

 

“Stiles, listen to me...this Harpy attack? It's only going to get worse. More Greek and Roman beast will appear searching for you specifically. No one in your group of friends will understand. Just like they probably tell you, you don't understand what it's like to be a werewolf or a hunter, they can't understand what it means to be a legacy like this...what it promises, that it threatens...” the Sheriff placed a hand on Stiles shoulder, “I like to say you have a choice, because you do, but I think the best would be for you to go, Stiles.”

 

Stiles just stood there and let it all sink in. They sat there until Stiles looked up at his father again and asked, “When do I go?”

 

“Soon...the wolves will come for you soon.” the Sheriff replied, remembering the dream he's been having the last couple of weeks where Lupa gave him fair warning of what was to come.

 

“Wolves?” Stiles echoed.

 

“Lupa, the wolf goddess will be the one to start you off on your training. It could take anywhere from a few months to a year.” the Sheriff explained. 

 

Stiles eyes widened, “That long!?”

 

The Sheriff just grinned, “It's the Roman Legion, kid. You think they let just  _ anyone _ in? Lupa has to approve of you first.”

 

“Will I see you in that time?” Stiles asked, insecure and a bit afraid.

 

The Sheriff pulled Stiles in for a hug, “I'm going to show you how to Iris message, you can call me through that. Easier and safer. Once you complete the training with Lupa in the Wolf House, you'll go to Camp Jupiter, be assigned to a Cohort and begin your training...easier said than done, of course but...you'll learn all you need to know.” 

 

“I...I guess I'm finally getting an adventure of my own like Harry Potter...”

 

“Whatever happens kiddo, just do be the boy who lives, okay?”

 

“I'm the Legacy of Mercury and your son...I'll be totally okay.” 

 


	2. Running With Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to use a lot of pics and Gifs from The Maze Runner. Just putting it out there. Because Dylan O'Brien was very awesome in that, and he's dressed very...Demigod-y. 
> 
> There are going to be some original characters along with some of the known demigods we've come across of. Some of the original characters will be based on OC(original Character) Roleplaying characters me and my friends have made up. Short summary? On Facebook, my friends and I make pages. They can be Canon character and they can be your own. Why should I waste time thinking up new ones when I can use some characters already created with back stories, personalities, and everything. For those that do have Pages, I'll put them in a link, so should you be interested or bored, you can go check them out and like up.

He wasn't all that okay. 

If he was being completely honest, he was terrified. All this time he thought of himself as just the human who tried to solve the problems and sorta failed, sorta succeeded. After his talk with his dad he read up on mythology. He read what made a hero and he didn't think he fit the description. And considering what usually happened to heroes he thought it was a good thing.

Heroes don't usually get a happy ending. 

He was...Stiles. 

The one people questioned, not for threats or potential, but for being weird. For being too weird. He couldn't fly, or shoot lightning, or control the seas. 

His father reassured him that he was the blood of Mercury. He was a descendant of the gods. That only by being the grandson of the god of mischief could he do the things he does. The Sheriff proceeded to tell Stiles how clever he was. How he could outsmart anyone if he put his mind to it. His one of a kind, only in a million, kind of mind. 

He didn't sleep much that night. 

The next day his dad let him skip school. Considering he would be off on this adventure, on this new part of his life, the Sheriff would go in soon and alert the school that he'll no longer be attending there. 

It all felt so sudden and bittersweet. He had the biggest urge to call Scott and tell him about it all. But his dad warned him against it. 

"I know it's scary, son. But this? This is _your_ journey. It's best not to involve them. Trust me. They'll have their hands full with all that's happening here." the Sheriff said as they ate lunch together the next day at their favorite burger joint. The Sheriff had taken a day off.

Stiles furrowed his brows at that. "I don't like the idea of leaving them to fend for themselves..."

"It's not like you're going to be idle. I remember when I first went to the Wolf House. It's no picnic. Lupa is strict and hard to please. Nothing but the best with her." the Sheriff replied as he took a sip of his drink through the straw. 

"Seriously, what is it with all these wolves? I thought Chiron was the hero recruiter?" Stiles asked before taking a bite of his burger.

"He is. But for the Greeks. You're Roman." the Sheriff said as he snagged one of Stiles's curly fries. 

"So I get more wolves?" Stiles deadpanned.

The Sheriff chuckled, "You'll miss the werewolf business a bit once you get a real introduction into the demigod life style."

"I highly doubt that. After being constantly attacked by the were-lizard version of the bully who tormented you most of your life...you'd think that's were it stops." Stiles grumbled.

"Monsters are everywhere kid. Some wear claws, others wear charming smiles. I'd tell you to be careful but you've always been." the Sheriff paused for a moment. "When it came to people...you've always been able to see through people's masks. It's an important ability to have."

Stiles was quiet for a moment, staring intently at his food before he looked up. "I'm scared."

"Good." the Sheriff said with a grin as he pushed his plate aside a bit. 

Stiles gave him a confused look.

"If you're not scared, you're not human. We may not be fully human, Stiles, but it's still _part_ of us. And even if we weren't...we still live in a human world most of the time. Being scared, feeling pain...it doesn't define weakness. It defines...humanity. We protect humanity. We're a part of humanity...even if we're only half."

Stiles nodded before he replied with his usual tone of sarcasm, "Did you have fortune cookies for breakfast?"

The Sheriff chuckled as he rolled his eyes. He was going to miss his son very much. Even his humor. 

* * *

 

The Sheriff helped Stiles pack a bag with essential survival items. Though the Sheriff cautioned Stiles not rely too much on them. The part of this experience was to test his survival...in the most primal form. Living off the land was something he may have to prepare for. Stiles wasn't overly worried. He'd been camping a few times. Though he wouldn't have a tent or the usual supplies, he knew how to build shelters and find water, as well as food. 

Once that was packed and Stiles was dressed in the best strategically picked clothes that were both comfortable, durable, and warm, the Sheriff spent the day teaching Stiles how to Iris message. 

It took him a few tries but he eventually got it. Which was pretty damn cool. Even if he only contacted his dad in the living room while he was in the kitchen. 

Soon night fell and Stiles wondered how his dad knew that night would be the night he'd be taken. The Sheriff just told him to trust him. He allowed Stiles to sleep for a few hours, then at around 4 AM woke him up. He heard a howl from a distance. 

Stiles followed his father to the front door. The Sheriff helped him with his backpack and when they stepped out there was a wolf there waiting. Its fur was an auburn color, and it's eyes were piercing as they stared at Stiles. 

Having had many a stare downs with...well, take your pick: Derek Hale, Jackson, Harris, Coach...

Stiles had no problem staring back defiantly and stubbornly. The wolf seemed to accept it as he let out a huff before turning in a circle and turning away from the house. Stiles turned to his dad with a questioning stare. "Do I follow it?"

The Sheriff nodded. "Yes. I want you to be careful, okay? Remember...power is useless if you don't have the knowledge in how to use it. You're clever, Stiles. Show it to them."

They hugged tightly. Stiles's eyes burned but he held back the tears. The Sheriff did the same, but he did kiss Stiles's forehead. "I love you kiddo. Make me proud."

Stiles nodded. "Love you too, dad." 

They shared another tight embrace before Stiles stepped away and followed the wolf. 

* * *

 

His dad told him stories about the Wolf House when he went there. The exact words used were "like a billionaire lumberjack would build." But what Stiles arrived to was...ruins. He furrowed his brow in confusion and turned to look at the wolf for some sort of answer. Except the wolf was gone. 

Stiles looked around the area, explored the ruins some, but found nothing. He wondered what sort of battle must have taken place to leave that sort of damage. All he knew was werewolves and hunters...his mind couldn't really grasp anything different just yet. 

"The scent of wolf hangs deeply on you..."

Stiles spun around but couldn't see where the voice was coming from. It sounded like a woman's voice. Not overly threatening but it did sound slightly cold. 

"You have fought along side wolves...alongside Lycaon's legacies..."

"I..." he remembered his father's words. Romans were strong willed and spirited. He straightened his posture and squared his shoulders. Speaking clearly, he answered, "I did. My friend was bitten by a werewolf. He needed to learn control and didn't have anyone to help him. So I did."

"A non-wolf teaching a wolf?" the voice sounded amused. 

"Those who can't, teach. As the saying goes." Stiles replied.

"...Mercury." the voice replied after a pause.

"Excuse me?" Stiles asked.

"That humor. That sarcasm. That...cunning. You may not have been claimed just yet, but I know the traits of a trickster when I see it." 

Stiles head some rustling before he saw the biggest wolf ever! The wolf stood at 7ft, red fur, and silver eyes. Logic told him to run, but instincts kept him in place. His whiskey colored eyes locked with her silver ones. But unlike with the wolf who had picked him up, Stiles knew it wasn't just any wolf. He knelt down on one knee before greeting the wolf goddess, "Lady Lupa."

"Son of Stilinksi. Come, we'll begin."

Stiles scurried onto his feet and ran after the wolf. "You mean...you're going to train me?"

"The Wolf House no longer stands, but demigods and legacies are still in need of guidance. That is my purpose. You are different, Son of Stilinski. Even among demigods. You...are curious."

"Is that bad?" Stiles asked with a slight frown.

"It can be dangerous." Lupa nodded. "But you are Roman." 

Stiles didn't see how that was enough of an explanation, but he didn't really feel like questioning a 7 foot tall immortal wolf. So he nodded and walked for a bit longer before he asked, "I thought there would be more...I dunno...testing done before you took me on."

"Most demigods or legacies come to me with no experience. You have done plenty. Now we just need to focus."

"Not really my forte." he replied honestly. 

"With proper motivation, it will be."

Okay, _that_ was ominous. 

* * *

 

Training with Lupa lasted for three months. It was a mixture of lacrosse practice and the danger he went through because of werewolves but multiplied by 1000. Learning to have a pack mentality wasn't hard. The training itself was easy to learn, it's the putting it in practice that was hard. Every time it seemed to get easy, Lupa would raise the danger or the intensity. 

Three months in though he could run as fast as a wolf, think like a wolf, react like a wolf, and even glare like a wolf. Like seriously, he could take on and beat Derek at glaring. 

Lupa wasn't one to get emotional he learned early on. Still, when it came time for him to head to Camp Jupiter Stiles sensed a bit of motherly nurturing as she nuzzled him a bit. Any demigod worthy of joining her pack became like a cub to her. When it came time for the cub to leave the pack...it was a slightly emotional moment. 

He traveled by foot to San Francisco and made his way toward the main Caldecott Tunnel and looked for the service tunnel. After a few while he came across two teens in armor who seemed to be standing guard. 

Stiles took a deep breath before marching up to them and stating who he was. The two shared a glance before one of them led him inside. 

"So...what do you know about yourself?" the guard asked, British voice catching Stiles slightly off guard. He seemed to be around Stiles's age. Had dark hair and dark eyes, and skin as pale as his, and they seemed to have a similar build. 

"My dad's the demigod. I'm second generation." Stiles replied.

"Did your dad manage to get a reference letter?" the guard asked.

"Reference letter?" Stiles asked as he cocked his head to the side in confusion.

The guard chuckled and shook his head. "There's a method here. Do you know about the cohorts?"

"Vaguely."

"Well...one and two are the best. To get into those, as well as the best jobs here at camp, you'll want a really good reference. Otherwise...you'll be stuck in a not so great cohort and doing the not so fun jobs...depending on your perspective anyway." the guard said with a shrug.

"What cohort are you?" Stiles asked curiously.

"Four. I had a reference, but when I was sent here...even with my Noble English roots, I was placed in four. My duties range from standing guard to digging trenches in the fields of my father." the guard answered in a bored tone. He gave a shrug, "Granted after the war and everything changed...things have been different."

"Who's your father?"

"Ares. Or Mars, as they call him here."

"You got a name, son of Ares?" Stiles asked as they almost reached the other side of the tunnel.

"[Deimos Storm](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Deimos-Lazarus-Storm/499888406785150?ref=hl), Greek among Romans."

   
[(Link to pic in case pic's not there)](https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfa1/v/t1.0-9/11755645_939440729447529_2517788592074226911_n.jpg?oh=531db16a84cfb5743ec32eeb5599059e&oe=5722CC82)

"I'm guessing...that's a thing?" Stiles asked. Then he realized he hasn't introduced himself, "Stiles, by the way. Grandson of Mercury."

"Romans and Greeks have had a long standing rivalry. For a long time though, neither believe the other existed. Then the war happened...and well, we've entered a new era. Change has been...real. It'll still be a while before things settle into the calm we once had." Deimos replied. 

"War?" Stiles asked.

"Son of Ares, talking about war yet again? Wow that _is_ news..." they stepped through the tunnel and Stiles turned to the voice that had spoken. 

The voice had been sarcastic, but amused. The speaker was blond with dark brown eyes. Armed with a machete on his back and a sword on his hip.

"He's barely set a foot inside camp and you're already overwhelming him with recent history that's still in the process of being jotted down."

"Not everyone here's as nice as you and me. Just wanted to bring him up to speed before he gets thrusted into this new world." Deimos replied with an eye roll. "And I don't talk about war as much as my half siblings."

"True...making yourself that much different." the blond replied, but it wasn't hateful. And Stiles caught the tug of a smile that Deimos gave. The blond turned to him and extended his hand in greeting. "Newton. Or just Newt. Son of Apollo. Second Cohort."

Stiles shook his hand and didn't question the guy's name. Not when his own was kept a family secret. "Stiles. Grandson of Mercury...I have no idea where I'll be placed. No reference letter."

"Well...things have changed. New management. You don't have to worry about discrimination..." Newt looked over to Deimos before looking back at Stiles and making a face, "Sort of."

"He means if you keep your head down and not cause problems with some of the snobbier legionnaires. Sides, you're Roman. No need to worry." Deimos scoffed. Then he sighed, "I have to get back to my post. Get him to Frank and Reyna, yeah?"

Newt nodded and he and Stiles waved Deimos goodbye. Newt watched him go a bit longer before patting Stiles on the back and nudging him towards one of the buildings.

"What did he mean?"

Newt sighed, "Deimos was always different. When he was claimed by Mars...he didn't hold the stereotypical brand of rage that came with that title. Don't get me wrong, piss him off and may the gods have mercy on your soul. He's calculating. Cynical. But only when really pissed. Other time he's just sarcastic and really rather lazy. Something that's also not usual for Romans. He was outted as a Greek when it turned out they weren't just a myth. I don't want you to have a bad idea about the Roman Legion, but the hatred between Romans and Greeks was fierce...we blamed each other for trouble. We nearly went to war....that's a story for another time. Deimos did his part in fighting in the war, but he mostly made sure he kept as many people alive as he could. That's how he went from being a Probatio to a Legionnaire. His brother, Frank, son of Mars was part of a huge prophecy that basically stopped the end of the world. He's Praetor now. Highest rank, makes a lot of the important decisions. He granted Deimos all the pardons needed for anything unfair that might have been placed on him for being Greek. Even offered him a higher position in rank, but Dei refused. Stubborn son of Ares if you'll ever see one." Newt said with a fond shake of the head.

"You switch from Ares to Mars a lot..." Stiles noted.

"Most here call him son of Mars. It's just what they're used to. But Greeks and Romans, though alternate forms of the other, are _not_ the same thing. Deimos identifies himself as Greek. He's a strong warrior and I respect his decisions. It's only fair I refer to him as he wishes." Newt replied in a calm tone of voice.

"You're one of a kind around here, aren't you Newt?" Stiles asked.

Newt chuckled. "Stick around long enough to have others to compare, then tell me that again if you still think it."

They walked in silence after that. Stiles began to take in everything around him. His father had been right about the old Rome meeting new Western. It was all epic. 

"This way. You'll meet with Reyna and Frank."

Stiles nodded, swallowing some nerves. They reached a room where two others in purple togas were having a discussion. Newt smiled at him before patting him on the back and heading back to where they came from. Stiles wanted to call out to him, but he held his tongue. He was Roman. He was strong and fearless.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" the girl demanded. She was older than him. Radiated intimidation and confidence. Stiles barely took noticed that a silver and gold metal dog flanked her with really sharp looking teeth and claws. 

"No, ma'am." Stiles said as he stepped into the room.

"Name?" she demanded as she locked eyes with him. 

Stiles looked at her and for some reason he told them his real name, a bit of a Polish accent. The Asian guy, Frank, his mind supplied, extended his hand and actually said his name correctly. Stiles shook his hand and said, "But really...everyone just calls me Stiles."

Reyna seemed a bit relieved as she nodded to him in greeting, "Stiles. Normally you'd meet with us and our Augur but...we haven't replaced him yet."

"And we really haven't felt the need to push the matter." Frank muttered under his breath as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"At any rate...let us begin." Reyna said as she went into a recount of what the Camp stood for, what the current events were, the war Deimos mentioned, the new ways of doing things, and the changes that have happened. 

It was a long day for Stiles.

* * *

 

There was a bonfire in full swing by the time Stiles's tour ended. Reyna offered to walk Stiles as Frank dismissed himself to go find his girlfriend Hazel. 

"Do you see yourself making a name for yourself here, Stiles?" Reyna asked.

Stiles was still amazed by all of the sights. Even more so as it got darker because the lights that appeared just made things more beautiful. Reyna herself in some of the lantern lights was no exception. He blushed a bit at his thoughts and shook his head. He then looked back at her and stammered,"Uh...well, it's just the first day. I'm still not fully sure what I'll be doing."

"We lost plenty of good warriors in the war...all before their time." Reyna sighed in sadness. Stiles licked his lips, wanted to say something comforting, but drawing up blanks. Reyna continued after a moment. "We're still getting things in order. Our eyes were widened and our beliefs shaken to a point. We're anything is not resourceful, but change is hard for anyone."

Stiles nodded.

"You're the first new member we've gotten in a while...unlike our Greek counterparts, we were very open about letting those with any bit of godly blood in...so long as they had the Roman Spirit." she added with a small grin that Stiles returned. "The war taught us much...we used to compete in games that strengthen the mentality of working against each other. But now we work to grow the mentality that we are one...the children of the gods, here to protect humanity, our home as a whole planet, and of course ourselves."

"I don't mean to offend...it's a nice campaign, but is it actually being put into practice?" Stiles asked.

"As much as I can enforce it." Reyna replied, voice cold.

"Still need to work out a few kinks, huh?" Stiles voiced after a moment.

Reluctantly Reyna nodded. They stood there next to each other, darting their eyes, just being there awkwardly before they locked eyes. Reyna cleared her throat. "Right well...there is much to do. Enjoy the celebrations now, because there will be plenty of work to do." She smirked slightly before heading in another direction, her dogs following behind her.

Stiles watched her go until she was completely out of sight. He didn't want look too much into it, but if the chance presented itself, he'd be a damn fool not to take it. He was making his way around, trying to see if he could find either Newt or Deimos.

Out of nowhere he feels a sting on his cheek before he feels weightless for a second. Next his head is making a hard impact with the sandy ground. He groaned in pain and balls himself into a fetal position.

 

"Think you're some sort of Casanova, eh Romeo?"

Stiles looked up at his attacker. He was about to get up when the brute kicks him in the stomach, keeping him down on the ground. Stiles opened his eyes to see his attacker raising his hand for another punch. He closed his eyes to brace for impact.

Instead of hearing the punch make contact with his face, he heard the whizzing of an arrow. It was followed by a yell. Stiles opened his eyes and saw that the arrow went through his attackers wrist, pulling him along, and lodged itself into a wooden post. 

Stiles looked towards where the arrow came from to see a brunet with an armed bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows on his back coming towards him. 

The archer stopped in front of Stiles and offered him his hand. Stiles took it and dusted himself off. As he did that, the archer walked up to his attacker and glared with piercing blue eyes. 

"Next time I'll aim lower." he hissed out. 

Walking back to Stiles he pulled him along. Stiles had no idea what the hell was going on, didn't really know anyone, was just attacked, and so he followed. They made it to one of the barracks. He inspected his injuries for a moment before he walked to one of the cabinets there and pulled out a first aid it.

"It's not that bad. Just need to clean it. Drink a splash of nectar and you'll be all healed in a few hours."

"Uh...thanks. Why was I attacked? Do you know?" 

"Dick, his name is Richard, but we all call him Dick since it's way more fitting, really likes Reyna." the archer placed the first aid kit on the bed next to Stiles and pulled out some cleaning supplies. "He was in Octavian's inner circle. He was the dude that made the whole camp march up to the Greek Camp and demand war. Dick was offered as much power and respect as Octavian I imagine. When Octavian died...Richard saw how screwed he was. He still wants power...and he's mixed that up with his teenage hormones and thinks he's in love with Reyna. Reyna hasn't shown interest obviously...but more so cos she's busy getting order in all forms back into this place. So when she showed interest to you back there...well, he's more brawn than brains." 

They were quiet then. Stiles letting all of that sync in, while the archer applied the cleaning ointment onto a cotton ball and then cleaned Stiles's cheek. Stiles winced lightly, which made the other chuckle.

"Yeah, it stings...it'll heal up soon though. Promise.The name's Hunter by the way. [Hunter Knyte-Skye](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Hunter-Knyte-Skye/614420161956173?ref=hl)."

Stiles laughed a bit, "Fitting choice of weapon."

Hunter smirked. "It was a horrible play on words from my parents." when Stiles looked at him expectantly, Hunter replied with, " My father's name is [Orion](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Orion-Knyte/187562338060970?ref=hl). My mother's name was Diana."

Stiles recalled from his crash course of mythology that in Greek mythology Orion was the famous hunter. And Diana is the Roman form of Artemis, who other than being the goddess of the moon was also the goddess of the hunt. 

"Your name practically wrote itself dude. I'm Stiles...wait...Diana's a maiden goddess...and Orion isn't a god...right?"

"Right." Hunter nodded. "Both my parents are demigods. I'm a Legacy."

"Of two gods?" Stiles asked.

"Hey...you really want me to give you the Talk about what happens when one demigod loves another demigod very, very much?" Hunter deadpanned. 

Stiles raised his hands in the surrender notion, "Sorry dude...this is all sorta new to me. So...whose kids were they?"

"Dad's the son of the big Kahuna." at Stiles's blank stare, Hunter answered with, "Zeus. He's Greek. My mother was Roman though. Daughter of Mercury."

Stiles eyes widened, "Seriously!? He's my grandfather too!"

Hunter smirked, "Why did you think I saved you?"

Stiles grinned. "Thanks cuz." Stiles paused and frowned slightly, "Am I going to be randomly attacked again?"

"You're a descendant of the mischievous god...trouble follows you, will seek you out, wherever you go." Hunter answered.

He was serious for a moment before he looked up and smiled at Hunter, "Never a dull moment though, huh?"

Hunter returned the smile, "Never." 

* * *

 

"It's him, isn't it? The one the Greek Prophecy talked about!" Deimos exclaimed.

"You don't know that..." Newt murmured as he read through one of the old texts he had on his desk. 

He and Deimos were in the second Cohort while everyone else was at the bonfire. After he finished his duties, Newt went to search for Deimos so they could further discuss matters. 

"It's a bloody good estimate! After the stunt with Octavian that nearly killed all of us, Delphi was supposed to be shut down. No more visions. No more oracle. Then we get one more.... _I_ may not know it's him for sure, but _you_ do. Admit it!"

 

  

Newt looked up from his text to look at his friend. "Do you know why I befriended you?"

"My razor sharp wit and devilishly good looks?" Deimos asked with a cheeky smirk.

"Because I've been given privilege to some rather interesting readings. Your family name comes in quite a lot. I knew you'd make quite the ally." Newt paused for a moment. "I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

"Seriously?" Deimos asked before rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair. "Fine. What?"

"Why did you refuse to rise through the ranks though you could? Your skills, family name, and money...you had very little obstacles in your way."

"...I am where I need to be."

"If you're going to be that cryptic then so will I." Newt warned.

Deimos sighed. "My father told me to stay. He said I'd need to help him."

"Ares?" Newt inquired.

Deimos shook his head, "Him. I never knew who, just...Him. I'm guessing that meant Stiles."

"Help him with what?"

"The hell if I know. Dad just gave me an order. I followed it."

"How Roman..."

"When in Rome..." Deimos replied with a smirk. Then it faded, "You know what's going on...tell me."

Newt sighed as he looked down at one of the pieces what was littered across his desk. He picked one up before he passed it over. Deimos looked it over but didn't see anything out of importance. It looked like any one elses file. 

  
  
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"We're still so freshly out of war...we're not at 100% yet and...something's going to happen really soon. Stiles is involved...gods know how many else will be too." he paused before looking at his friend. "I fear you've found the reason why you've come here."

"Hmm...to help Stiles train, or to die by his side?"

"Don't be stupid." Newt scoffed.

Deimos smirked. "Don't be affectionate. If this prophecy makes me out to be a hero...well, you know what they say about heroes. Are you gonna tell him?"

Newt shook his head. "He's got his head spinning from all the new sights and sounds. Let him get some footing before we pull the rug out from under him."

* * *

 

_**THREE MONTHS AGO** _

Something was going down in Beacon and they needed all hands on deck. While Scott worked with the other high schoolers, Derek went to look for Stiles who was the only person they couldn't reach. When he went in through Stiles's window he growled at not finding the teen there. It was late though so he assumed there wouldn't be too much of a wait. He sat on the bed and waited.

His wait lasted hours before he heard the door open and close from down stairs. He gave an annoyed sigh of relief but it was short lived when he realized it wasn't Stiles. It was the Sheriff. In a panic, Derek ducked into Stiles's closet just in the nick of time. He held his breath and looked through the slits to see the Sheriff leaning in the doorway, looking into Stiles's darkened room with a forlorn expression. The man gave a sigh before pushing off the doorframe and heading to his room. 

Derek waited another 20 minutes before leaving the closet. Keeping his eyes alert he heard the soft snores of the Sheriff. It made his brows furrow in confusion. Stiles wasn't home. Scott claimed he couldn't get a hold of him so it was doubtful the Sheriff thought he was with Scott. And that resigned look of sadness he caught a small glimpse of...what did that mean exactly? 

* * *

 

The next day Erica reports that the Sheriff went to the school to report that Stiles wouldn't be attending anymore. When Scott caught up to the man, he simply said he had sent Stiles away. 

Just about everyone tried to get in contact with Stiles for some answers, but they got none.

One month passed, then another, and another. 

Stiles was gone, they didn't know where, and he didn't seem to be coming back. 

* * *

Stiles found a secluded place where he could get a rainbow and proceeded to make an Iris message. It was late so it was a man made make shift one, since he wanted to get his dad at home. When the image appeared and he saw his dad for the first time in months he gave a breathless laugh.

"Dad!"

"Stiles?!"

"Hey!"

They smiled brightly at each other, eyes full of emotion.

"I've missed you kid."

"I've missed you too dad. But hey, guess what?" Stiles asked as he bounced up and down a bit with excitement. 

"What?" the Sheriff inquired.

"I made it! And I met a cousin of mine! and-" Stiles began to tell his father all of his story thus far. 

 

 


	3. The Forth Cohort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time line may not be really clear in the story, but the way I planned it out is like this: Stiles spent three months training with Lupa. Then he spent another two months just getting accustom to every day life at camp and training. And it's not exact timing, so to the people in Beacon, he's been gone for roughly under half a year.
> 
> I don't know why, but there's a little bit of Stiles/Reyna happening. Oh and for Reyna, I've chosen Willa Holland as a face claim. I Googled some DreamCast and...some looked too young, others too old. I think Willa's a good fit, hope you think so too. And yes, I am using pics/gifs from The Maze Runner and Minho is Frank in this...

"Stiles Stilinksi, Son of Jonathan Stilinski, Legacy of Mercury..." Stiles knelt on one knee in front of Reyna and Frank while the legion gathered around them and watched. Reyna's voice was strong and confident. She spoke loudly enough for all to hear, but she wasn't anywhere near yelling. The only sound other than her voice that Stiles could hear was the crackling of the fire and the chirping the crickets. No one dared to speak when their Praetor was speaking. "Praetor Frank Zhang and I have discussed among ourselves and have come to a decision. As of now you are Probatio residing in the Fourth Cohort. Train strong, be loyal, show the Roman spirit and I, um, _we_ believe you will quickly rise in rank."

Stiles didn't dare smirk when he and Reyna locked eyes. She saw something in him and it made his stomach twist with knots. He also realized he may have a thing for power. Reyna cleared her throat and that was that. She and Frank went back to business while he and Deimos celebrated being in the same Cohort. Though Newt and Hunter were both in Two, the four of them celebrated with a cup of rich hot chocolate. 

* * *

 

Being Roman? 

Not easy. 

Wake up is at 5AM sharp, with 12 minutes to have bed made, be changed, hair and teeth brushed, and have nature's call answered. They run laps until their shirts are soaked in so much sweat it looks like they took a dip in the fountains...except they smell worse than a boy's locker room. They stopped briefly to change into something that didn't reek so they could actually eat something. 

The food was...amazing. It was delivered by invisible servants that Stiles learned were called  _Aurae._ They're are invisible most of the time, although when Stiles grins at something Deimos said after drinking some of his orange juice, one becomes visible for a moment and tops off his glass with a giggle. She looks like an elfin girl in a white silk dress, and is gone before Stiles could say thank you. 

Training resumes for another two hours before he's assigned work. For the first hour and a half they have him digging trenches in The Fields of Mars before he's called off to help with the rebuilding of some of the structures that were damaged during the infamous war he keeps hearing about. 

Newt, Hunter, and Deimos all supply basic information, but never go too deep into it. Hunter said that he wasn't part of it so he _can't_ supply more information while Newt and Deimos just _won't_. But it was Hunter who asked him to stop asking about it. When Stiles demanded why, Hunter took him to look at a wall. 

It was littered with a lot of names. 

"Who are they?"

    
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Hunter pointed to another direction, "Over there is where the cemetery is. All the tombs are over there, crypt too. Memorials...we're demigods. Even those who have had years of experience and training from the best and became the best themselves...they don't always make it back. It's been nearly half a year since the war. I was with a bunch of new demigods that arrived right soon after. There was still rubble and chaos the lights that may be hard to imagine. Campers with wounds that even Nectar and Ambrosia couldn't heal, with nightmares that couldn't be contained or wait for the poor soul to be asleep...this here wall?" Hunter pointed to the wall, "Are the names of the fallen. Roman, Greek, Satyr, er, Faun...anyone who fought valiantly, who died bravely for their home...all on that wall...all younger than twenty. Hell, I'm not sure any of them made it to eighteen."

Stiles didn't know what to say, but Hunter did. 

"Our lives aren't easy Stiles. We can glorify them all we want with stories and downplay the horrors, but the truth remains...we're just kids. We're thrown into this world expected to survive. Some of the things we see are worth it. The amazing insights of the universe...but they sometimes come at a price. A brother...a sister...a friend...a lover..." Hunter shrugged as he shifted from foot to foot. "Some don't have a good mortal family to help cope. Most of our mortal family stories aren't happy ones at all. When you're born different one of two things happen. Either your parent protects you as much as they can, knowing the world will give you injustice...or they will hate that you aren't normal... _hate_ that you're different and will make _them_ different. Even if you have a good mortal side...the Fates can be cruel, and you just can't share your world with them...

"You're curious, Stiles. I can see it. You _want_ to know. And I get it, man, I do. But there are stories we have to wait for...just be patient."

Stiles looked over at his cousin and nodded. 

They spent the rest of their working day restoring some of the old temples. 

* * *

After the working hours were done Stiles ventured off before anyone could stop him. Hunter's talk about the life of a demigod really shook him up. Worst it reminded him of those back in Beacon. He may have been under appreciated, but he'd been a constant source of knowledge and help. If anything else, with evading being arrested. Though he was hurt at how easily he could be forgotten, he couldn't help but care for their safety. 

He was never religious. After his dad's tale, he knew why. But he felt really lost and confused about his thoughts at the moment. He sought out the Temple of Mercury and simply sat in front of the statue of what his grandfather supposedly looked like. 

   
[(Link to pic in case pic is unavailable)](https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfa1/v/t1.0-9/11745831_939447326113536_3237365860035479976_n.jpg?oh=eede95d8d627559fe809b816ce5b4e02&oe=57331990)

"I probably should have brought a sacrifice or something...but I didn't think of it, sorry." he began to speak after a moment of silence. "I don't even know if you know I exist...werewolves, hunters, banshees, kanimas, harpies, Wolf goddess..and yet I still question if you're real. Does that even make sense?" he asked in a confused tone. "My dad thinks I'm a hero...I don't think I am. I'm just Stiles. I...I can't shift into a wolf like Derek or Scott! I can't fly or shoot lightning like Hunter! I...I just _think_ and _hope_ it's _enough_ to get me through the battle!" He licked his lips as he waited...when nothing happened he straightened and sighed. Right. What had he been expecting anyway? For the statue to come alive and have a pep talk with his godly grandfather who probably had more important things to do anyway? Running a frustrated hand through his hair he looked back up at Mercury, "Just...don't let it be a fluke, okay? Don't...don't let me be a mistake." 

* * *

 

"Jason said that a few of Trivia's, or rather Hecate's kids are okay with visiting Camp Jupiter with him on his next round. I was thinking that the Ceres's kids could work with them to help produce some more fields in quicker time. We're not in any danger of running low on vegetables or anything, but it couldn't hurt to have more just in case. Reyna?" Frank asked after not receiving an answer. 

They were in their Praetor quarters discussing matters, or rather Frank was. Reyna was in a daze. 

"Reyna?"

"Hmm..."

"Yeah, so go ahead and order the Vulcan kids to burn all the fields and let the camp starve to death, right?" 

"Yeah, sure. Whenever you're ready." 

   
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Frank rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his sides. He put as much authority into his voice before calling out her name once more, "Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano!"

Reyna jumped a bit before straightening her back and snapping out of her thoughts, "What?"

The son of Mars sighed before resting his hands on the table, "Okay, what's up? This isn't from Praetor to Praetor...it's from friend to friend. What's...got you so distracted."

Reyna blushed a bit in embarrassment at being so distant during a meeting. "Nothing."

"Not nothing. Come on, you can tell me." Frank offered his most reassuring smile. 

The daughter of Bellona smiled slightly in admiration seeing just how far Frank has come. If there was ever anyone to be be the prime example of Roman Pride, it'd be Frank. She sighed, the war teaching her that it's okay to let other help her. That the weight she carried could be shared and she wouldn't be a lesser Roman for sharing it. 

"Something bad is going to happen soon, and I'm not sure of the outcome, but..."

"But?" Frank coaxed.

"I'm tired of losing people, Frank..." She said quietly as she looked down. "I don't want to lose anymore. There was a time when we'd welcome those to New Rome as a refuge...deaths were because of old age, and the occasional quest gone wrong. But that's changed. Now...now we don't even always get a body back to honor and bury properly. New Rome is rebuilding, but it hasn't gotten it's sense of safety back. And I doubt it ever will."

"But it _will_." Frank said with conviction. "It's like a scar, Reyna. It'll hurt, even after it scabs over. The sting will remain for some time longer...then it'll still ache when it rains. But it's not a sign of weakness. It's a sign of survival. We endured. We survived. We prevailed." 

Reyna could only grin at her fellow Praetor. She had to believe in his words. There was no accepting anything else.

Even though a dark feeling nestled itself in the pit of her stomach. 

* * *

 

 

"What exactly are you hiding that involves Stiles?" Hunter asked Newt when they were in the Second Cohort after a day of working. 

Newt looked at the other before looking around the room where everyone seemed to stop and look at them. The blond rubbed his fingers over his mouth before ordering everyone to leave. 

One of the other members glared at Hunter, who glared back, before asking Newt if he was sure. Newt nodded and sent them away with a wave of his hand. Once they were alone the blond turned a bored stare to Hunter and said, "You shouldn't challenge my authority like that."

"I didn't challenge it."

"No one speaks to me like that unless it's Reyna or Frank. It's disrespectful." Newt pointed out.

"Well excuse me." Hunter replied sarcastically. "But I'd like you to remember that I'm half Greek and that half happens to be the King of the Gods, Zeus, counter part of the guy who this camp is named after. I wasn't born to follow orders." 

"No, I suppose not. Still, you should watch your tongue."

"Or what? They'll corner me? Beat me up? I'm not afraid of them. I _can_ take them. And stop avoiding my question!" Hunter demanded.

"I'm not hiding anything." Newt replied calmly. 

Hunter just gave him an unamused, sarcastic smirk. "See...even though Mercury is Roman, I still hold potential for Hermes attributes. He was the God of many things including trickery, thieving, and lying. And you know what? Whenever anyone lies to me, I get this tingle in the back of my mind that alerts me of it. So how about you say that again, cos your words just tickled my mind." 

Newt stared at him for a moment before heading towards his bed and pulled some papers out from under his mattress.

* * *

 

Stiles respected the advice Hunter gave him and waited for people to tell him things rather than ask, though it was really hard. He had questions beyond questions that popped out at him, but then he'd see a camper with burns or scars or a missing eye or missing fingers, and he immediately shut up. 

He kept his father posted by writing letters every day and Iris messaging when he could. Stiles concentrated on his training and put 150% in each session. It was slow, but Stiles saw the progress. From training his instincts with Lupa, to simply getting stronger and more strategic, he was just _growing_. 

He had a few more run-ins with Dick, but nothing he couldn't handle. Either by himself or with the help of Deimos or Hunter, Dick was slowly learning to leave Stiles alone. At the moment anything between Stiles and Reyna was nothing more that fleeting glances and quick smiles.

There was something underneath it all that made it impossible for Stiles to enjoy his free time. When he sat in the Fourth Cohort at night and some of his other bunk mates shared stories that would generally be awesome, Stiles's mind was else where.

At first he ignored it, but he couldn't help but notice Deimos and Newt's interest in him. Asking him way too many questions about his werewolf adventures. It wouldn't be weird since others asked him about it too when they find out. But unlike with the others who Stiles feels comfortable asking them question in turn and they reply back honestly...it didn't feel like that with them. It felt like they weren't asking out of pure curiosity. It felt like these was more going on.

Then Hunter began to act suspicious.

Stiles was friends with werewolves who knew when he was lying. He'd become really good at learning to phrase his words so he could lie without lying. Hunter once said that just because you were Greek or Roman, you held potential for the opposite. Jason Grace being his example. The son of Jupiter had risen to the rank of Praetor, but left it all behind because he was more Greek than Roman. Stiles's mischievous side shown through, and though he didn't get that feeling Hunter describe when people lied to him yet...he's been lying so long he was an expert.

Stories continued to be told in the Forth Cohort, but Stiles didn't remember any of that night.  

 

  

* * *

 

"Should I have a bad feeling for being summoned?" Hunter asked Deimos when he saw the other was heading towards the Praetor chambers as well. 

"Dunno...do you?" Deimos asked with a slight smirk, his armor echoing slightly through the halls as they walked. He must have been on guard duty. Hunter himself had just come from the armory where he'd been making arrows. 

"Fear is illogical. Reyna may be fierce, but she's still a logic I understand." Hunter replied.

"Oh really?"

"People don't scare me, I can charm them. Monsters don't scare me, I can smite them."

"Then what does scare you?" Deimos asked in a bored tone. 

"Like I'd tell a son of War that." Hunter scoffed.

"Enclosed spaces."

   
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"Hey!" Hunter pouted then muttered. "Cheater."

"We're all built with something to fear...fear makes us human. Makes us vulnerable. You inherited Jupiter's abilities of the sky...your element is freedom. It's only _logical_ for you to fear being trapped, unable to move...caged." 

"Praetor." Deimos greeted with a nod. Hunter nodded as well, but gave no other greeting. 

"Son of Mars. Legacy of Mercury and Jupiter. Follow me." Reyna ordered as she led them into the Praetor chambers with Argentum and Aurum flanking her. 

"What is this about? Is it about the Prophecy?" Deimos asked with a bit of excitement in his eyes. Though he didn't share his enthusiasm for fighting like his siblings it was still an itch that he loved to scratch. The fact that he was asked to meet with Reyna meant the he would be involved. His first real quest. He was excited. 

"The one that involves Stiles?" Hunter inquired as he looked from Deimos to Reyna. He had so many questions considering the limited information that he knew. Stiles was also family, more so than anyone else since he was the only other grandson of any god he knew. The fact that they shared a grandfather made their bond stronger.  

 

"I need to remember that Greeks aren't too patient." Reyna muttered but there wasn't any heat in it.

Hunter shrugged, "ADHD."

"Prospect of finally going out into the field." was Deimos's excuse. 

"Right. Well...yes. This _is_ about Stiles. I fear the time has arrived...and with it a severe warning from Mars. I've put together a team. Normally a questing team only calls for three. Since the warning came from Mars, involves Stiles, and was a prophecy even though Delphi was supposed to be shut off, I've decided to have Frank and Newt accompany Stiles." Reyna explained.

Deimos and Hunter exchanged a confused and slightly hurt look before staring back at Reyna. 

"My father's visited me in my dreams...he implied I'd have part to do in this." Deimos stated. 

"And you will...but without the questing team's knowledge." Reyna replied before her eyes turned to steel. Hunter and Deimos straightened their backs into attention. "You will wait until they leave, then you shall follow. Deimos with your war and strategy knowledge and Hunter with your... _hunting_ and tracking abilities, you will be their Calvary. They can't know you're going...do not make your presence known until absolutely needed. This is not how we normally do things. _But_...I want everyone to come home. Understood?" 

Hunter and Deimos nodded. 

* * *

"Derek..." the Sheriff greeted as he stepped out of his cruiser.

The Sheriff just got off his shift and wanted nothing more then go home, relax, and see if there was anything new from Stiles. As a child of Mercury he helped Stiles learn how to send messages safely and discretely. Once Scott and the others realized Stiles was gone, they poked around the house a lot. The sudden disappearance of the hyper active teen was too much of amiss for the pack to simply let go. They were convinced that the supernatural was somehow involved. Though it was, the Sheriff wasn't about to go telling them that. His detective skills were also something to be taken seriously, though plenty of times they weren't. He knew when the pack was in his house snooping around. 

They haven't found anything. 

The Sheriff kept an old wooden box that didn't look impressive or out of the ordinary. That was the point of it, to be inconspicuous. It was rigged however. Whenever Stiles wanted to send him a letter, he'd sent it the Mercury/Hermes way and it would arrive in the box, and only he could open it. He loved reading about his son's advancements, about the new friends he's made, and about all that he's learned. It's been too long since he's last been in Camp Jupiter himself and damn if he hasn't missed it. It was nice to read about it and how it's remained the same and how it's changed. 

He hoped to see it again soon. He imagines it'll be like seeing Stiles again after this. At the core camp will still be camp, but it'll be different now. Just as Stiles will always be Stiles, but he too will now be different. 

"Sheriff."

But seeing Stiles and Camp Jupiter again were still a ways off. Until then he had a duty to Beacon Hills. He also had a pack of werewolf who keep bugging him for information about his son and his condition. 

"Would you like to come in? There's leftover lasagna that Melissa sent over with Scott yesterday...when he asked me about Stiles and I told him the same thing I told him last week. Probably the same thing I'll tell him next week too." the Sheriff replied as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside. 

Derek followed quietly and stood by the door while the Sheriff went through his routine of removing his policeman's belt and everything on it. Keys in the key bowl, jacket on the hook, cell phone connected to the wall charger to recharge.

"I just need to know...is he _safe_?" Derek asked as he followed the Sheriff into the kitchen.

The Sheriff picked out two plates and set the table for the both of them before reaching for that lasagna.  "Honestly, Stiles's sarcasm is bound to get him in trouble wherever he goes. I've been a cop practically his whole life and look how well that's done to keep him from being mischievous."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because Derek stiffened and the Sheriff was sure he saw eyes flash for a second. 

"I don't supposed you'll tell me _where_ he is?" Derek finally asked. 

When the microwaved beeped he pulled the lasagna out and served them each a slice. He sat down and gave Derek a pointed look. 

Derek groaned. 

The Sheriff just smirked before digging into his piece. "I'll give you points for persistence, but you have to remember...I survived Stiles's terrible twos."

Derek sighed in defeat before eating his piece too, knowing the Sheriff wouldn't let him leave without eating. Other wise he wouldn't be allowed through the threshold voluntarily. He was still hopeful that he'll eventually get a clear answer. 

 

* * *

 

"We'll rest here." Deimos said as he let his backpack drop to the ground. 

Hunter sighed but nodded and began to make a pit for the fire. They needed to keep track of the other three, but still be a distance away. Considering how high the sun was in the sky, the others should decide to make camp soon themselves. Deimos and Hunter worked in sync and in silence until everything was set and prepared. They had a low fire going, snare near by to catch rabbits, squirrels, or birds. Their canteens were more than half way full of water. 

Hunter went to check on his snares and came back with a rabbit. Deimos took it and the knife on his belt that rested on the opposite side of his sword and began to skin it. 

"I don't suppose your father told _you_ whatever the hell he told Frank and Reyna?" Hunter asked after a moment.

 

"See...the way things are kiddo, my dad's _Ares_. Frank's dad, and the guy that warned our dear Praetor, was _Mars_. It's lame and it sucks, but no...I didn't get that memo." Deimos deadpanned as he skillfully skinned the animal.

"Super..."Hunter slumped down and picked up a stick to poke the fire with. 

After the animal was skinned Deimos began to gut it. "Look, I doubt it matters really. Bad things are going to happen to our friends on their quest. They're going to need help and back up. No matter what in the name of Hades they'll need help from, we're going to be there to save the day."

 

 

"Stiles is family...I just don't want to have to add his name to that wall." Hunter muttered but it was just loud enough to Deimos to hear.

"You won't." the War demigod swore. 

* * *

 

 

 When Reyna had called him in for a private meeting he...well, to be honest his mind was in the gutter. It easily changed through when he was told more about the war that happened. How the descendant of Apollo had caused so much grief that until Zeus thought otherwise, Delphi was closed. Which meant there shouldn't have been more visions or prophecies for a while. 

Until they got another one. 

Stiles denied being part of a prophecy. Frank and Reyna told him he was the _center_ of one. 

That was five days ago before he set out with Frank and Newt towards Hawaii of all places. By the time their boat finally landed(with Frank complaining that it was no _Argo II_ , but much better than the dingy he, his girlfriend Hazel, and some guy named Percy had to use to make it to Alaska) it was dark. Too late to set up a decent camp, but they began to clear out a spot while two of them slept and someone kept watch. 

They were looking for a good spot that would supply them with good cover when they froze.

    
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"Please tell me I am imagining that noise..." Stiles said in a whisper.

"I wish I could." Newt replied.

Frank cursed in French. Pardon him. 

Stiles squinted his eyes to see through the darkness. It was difficult to see how big they actually where, but Stiles saw their fangs and their eyes. 


	4. The Return

"You know...I really hate this part of the plan." Hunter commented as the two walked away from their boat. They just barely landed on the island, a few hours behind the trio, but didn't have the time to make camp of any time. 

"Even though I find you only tolerable, Knyte, I agree." Deimos replied with light teasing as he lifted his spyglass and extended it. It was a gift from his brother on his mother's side. Magically enchanted to see as if by day, though not like a night vision scope mortals would use. As for the comment, he and Hunter were friends...they just had a very sarcastic and rude friendship. It's why they all hit it off so well with Stiles. 

 

  

 

"See anything?" Hunter asked after a moment of just taking in the surroundings around them. Hunter could thrive and live up to his name in just about any environment, but he was born in Las Vegas and raised in big cities. His comfort zone included concrete and skyscrapers. 

"Unfortunately..." Deimos said with a frown as he closed his spyglass and pocketed it. He pointed towards the treeline where the jungle began. "I see three different sets of footprints."

"I'm guessing Stiles, Newt, and Frank?" 

"Most likely."

"And what else?" Hunter inquired, not sure if he really wanted the answer or not. 

"Paw prints...hard to tell how many though...minimum three." Deimos answered. 

"Let me borrow that." Hunter said as he pointed to Deimos's jacket. 

The War demigod passed over his spyglass and Hunter did the same thing Deimos had. "Thee exactly, actually...there's little damage to the area. No drag marks as far as I can see. Either they were carried away by something big and strong enough to carry all three. Or they walked willingly...the wind's been blowing the sand over the prints which makes it hard to tell exactly what happened."

"Right." Deimos nodded as he accepted the spyglass back when Hunter finished with it. "We can't be certain what we're going up against, but it'll most likely be canine in feature. You remember the plan?"

"Yeah, split up, which I just want to point out is the worst thing that can be done as far as every horror movie I've ever seen. But we don't have a choice. Anyway, split up...they'll want to separate Stiles from Newt, Stiles is more important so they'll keep him alive longer. Right now Newt's in trouble. Because I'm faster due to my Hermes/Mercury Jump, I find him and possibly Frank, while you search for Stiles...and possibly Frank. Regardless of our results, by dawn we meet up at the beach and then decide if we head home or call Reyna." Hunter recounted the plan. On their way to the island they both took turns sleeping, each getting a Godly visit. Ares told Deimos that war threatened Camp Jupiter in three days time. Hermes told Hunter that Newt was in most danger. Whatever Stiles was involved in, he'd _need_ Newt, and though there wasn't much more information available, the chances of getting rid of Newt to stop Stiles from achieving greatness was high. "I hate how vague they are..."

Deimos smirked. "Don't we all. Well...see you at dawn. Remember, three days."

* * *

"COME ON! THIS WAY!" Frank yelled as he pulled Stiles along as they tried to escape from their attackers. 

They were ambushed at the beach. Being too open and with little coverage the three slowly made it towards the jungle area and tried to fight back once they had enough terrain advantage to work with. Sadly it wasn't enough. 

Stiles wasn't overly sure what the hell they were fighting, but they had guard dogs that were all sorts of nasty. He and Frank managed to stay together, but they lost sight of Newt when explosions began to go off. As much as Stiles wanted to head towards where he last saw Newt, it was too much firepower going on and they were being attacked by all angles it seemed. 

As they ran through the jungle Stiles noticed how walls began to appear. They ran into dead-ends and had to be extra fast to not get caught by the things chasing them. They ran for the whole night, eventually the darkness gave to light, but that gave little reassurance or semblance to safety. 

"It's a freaking maze!" Stiles cried.

"Labyrinth..." Frank muttered as he looked at the ground with an unreadable expression before he said, "Impossible..." 

"Yeah, I think that as people related to _gods_ , we should eliminate that word from our vocabulary." Stiles deadpanned sarcastically. 

"No what I mean is-" Frank began before shaking his head. "Never mind. Come on, lets keep moving."

"I want to try circling back and try to find Newt." Stiles said. 

Frank looked torn but eventually nodded. Stiles was thankful. He remembered Hunter telling him that Romans were very strict about their duties. Casualties were acceptable as long as it was done nobly and for the good of the legion. Hunter also told him that though he had Roman blood in him, he had very Greek actions. He and Frank circled back but they heard monsters coming towards them.

Stiles pointed to one of the walls. It's been through plenty of battles it seemed and was ready to fall with the right impact. They grabbed onto some of the vines and waited until the monsters were closer before they began to pull to bring random rocks out and weaken the structure.  

 

    
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Unfortunately neither of them took into consideration of the structure as a whole. When the monsters did crash into the wall and it came tumbling down, it wasn't the only one. Soon everything around them began to crumble. They couldn't circle back to where they last saw Newt. At the moment the available route where they didn't end up pancakes were very limited. 

Stiles ran. 

Ran faster than he ever did at lacrosse practice. Ran faster than when werewolves or a kanima was after him. Ran faster than at the thought that maybe Lydia may want to talk to him.

Stiles just ran and tried to keep up with Frank as the world around him _literally_ crumbled. 

 

   

* * *

 

Deimos had a few tricks up his sleeve that would be sure to be one hell of a story whether he survived or not, but hopes he lives long enough to tell the tale himself. Using magic he's picked up from a mixture of campers, he summoned an English version of the Gryphon to carry him over the island to help him find Stiles...and possibly Frank, faster. When he heard the crumbling of the stone walls he ordered the beast carrying him to lead that way. He watched from the sky as what looked like a labyrinth made of stone crumble, watched as groups of monsters fled to different directions. 

Signaling towards a clearing, he and the Gryphon headed for a landing. 

 

 

As Reyna told them, Deimos had strategic military knowledge...not so much hunting skills. He was sure Hunter could have led him to whoever the monsters were chasing in half the time it took him. The point was that he got to Stiles...and possibly Frank, while they were still alive. 

Though just barely. Stiles was on the ground unconscious and bleeding while Frank was trying to keep the monsters at bay with his spear, but was also bleeding as well as limping and not doing too good. 

Deimos unsheathed his sword and unleashed some of that bottled fury he's always got locked away. It was sort of like the _Blessing of Ares,_ but different. Every day he felt a bit of anger for one reason or another, and he collects it. For other people it might be a psychological metaphor, but for him it was much more literal. It was like saving up fuel. Each time he walked into a fight he had a full tank. All he needed was that spark of anger to ignite. Sometimes a son of Ares always has. 

When the monster lay dead at his feet, he still held his sword high, panting, as he watched the monster deteriorate into dust. 

 

 

Frank looked up at him gratefully, "I am so glad to see you, brother."

Deimos spared him a smirk before it fell and he rushed to Stiles. "Let's see if I can help, then you can say that again if you still feel like it."

Together they helped the wounded drink Nectar while wrapping up any wounds until they healed. Frank explained to Deimos about Newt while waiting for Stiles to come to. Deimos explained that Hunter was on Newt duty and they had a plan about meeting up at dawn. Frank asked for alternatives but when Deimos explained what would happen in three days, Frank understood. 

"What the hell is going on?"

"It's not about Greeks and Romans this time..."

"Then what is it?"

"The hell if I know. I admire how strong the Roman Empire is, but I'm just a soldier. I don't get told any much aside from 'attack that', 'defend this', 'Glory to Rome!' I don't know what we're facing, but I can guess as to why Stiles is so damn important." Deimos said as he tightened the bandage around a wound on Stiles's leg.

"And why is that?" Frank asked as he took a sip of water from his canteen.

"All of us? Whether we've got on year or ten under our belts of this supernatural crap, it's all been based on a certain mythology. Up until not too long ago each camp didn't know the other existed. Now you do...what's to say any other mythologies don't coexist with us? Each one has their own 'end of the world' prophecy...their own heroes to save the world. But we're all so arrogant and blinded and _afraid_..." Deimos paused for a moment before locking cold eyes with Frank's. "There is _so_ much more out there...but not everyone is mentally, physically, spiritually... _magically_ , prepared to tackle it. Hunter called him a Spark. Unlike Hecate's children, or like your girlfriend Hazel who was an apprentice of hers, Spark's don't control magic. They _are_ magic. War is heading to camp, brother...war is heading towards home. _The Spark must be ignited_..."

"A line from the new prophecy?" Frank asked.

Deimos nodded, "Only part Newt ever shared with me. It puzzled him. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Whether it was literal or metaphorical."

"Which is it?"

Deimos shrugged at his brother, "I'm a child of war, not prophecy. I have no idea." 

* * *

 

After he and Deimos split up, Hunter did his best to hunt down Newt with the limit lighting. Monster were also crawling about every so often and he rather not waist his energy on them while not knowing what sort of situation Newt was in. 

With Newt being in more mortal danger than Stiles(who at the moment was more valuable alive, unlike Newt), it might have made more sense to send the child of War for him. But Hunter had more field and rescue experience.

He managed to find a trail and followed it all night. Sadly he knew he would miss the dawn rendezvous meet up, but he was too close to finding Newt, he just knew it! He trusted Deimos to get to Stiles and Frank(the trail he was following only had Newt's boot tracks) and take them back to Camp safely. Him and Deimos had more or less figured this whole quest, the system being as rocky as it was, since this was the first quest since the war, was a way to get Stiles away.

The camp needed him.

Hunter finally came across a place that resembled enough of a building that could be used as a holding cell. As he carefully trudged forward he was met with a force field that threw him backwards. Dusting himself off after getting up he slowly approached the barrier again, using his hand as a guide. When his hand connected with the barrier though it burned like acid and left a bloody hand print as he quickly pulled it away.

 

 

No more than ever he knew he was close to Newt. He just needed to get creative on how to get to the other side.

* * *

 

  

"You sure took your time..." Newt drawled out as he inspected his tied up hands.

Hunter dropped from the top of the rocky wall and took out his knife at his side and got to work on freeing the blond. Scoffing, Hunter rolled his eyes, "First time in Hawaii. I got sidetracked, sue me." 

Once he was free, Newt rubbed the rope burn marks but got to his feet and began to make his way to the exit. "So what do you know?"

"Deimos and I were were supposed to meet up at dawn this morning to head back to camp. Which by the way will be attacked by a small army of monsters in two days time. Not Greek or Roman monsters though...should be fun. But it took me longer to find you and get through that damn barrier."

Newt frowned a bit. "I'm sure Deimos got to Frank and Stiles. Killing me was the objective. Thanks for not letting it happen...how exactly did you take out those...whatever they were?"

Hunter smirked, "It pays to be different. I learned a few tricks from one of my father's friend's. He's a trickster with a bloodline in Norse mythology. Though I can hold my own in a sword fight...anything else like the Hermes Jump will be impossible. We'll have to take the long way home." Hunter said, smirk leaving him. Hermes Jump was like teleportation. Hermes was the Messenger to the Gods, and God of Travel. It was an ability to took him strict months of training to accomplish and still, the distances he can cover need more time and training to get longer. If he had his full strength, he could may get them to the Pacifistic Ocean, but close enough to swim to shore. 

"What about sending a letter? Do you have energy to do that?" Newt asked.

Hunter blinked at him before replying, "In theory there are places with strong protective magic that'll make it impossible for me to breach, but other than that...yeah, I can send a letter. Who to?"

"His name's John. Johnathan Stilinski. I need you to send a letter to your uncle." 

* * *

 

"Derek...I think we pretty much exhausted any traces or clues about Stiles's location from here. The Sheriff's not gonna say anything if he hasn't already." even though Scott's words spoke in protest, he followed behind the older wolf and kept his eyes and nose alert to anything that may help supply answers. 

They both lost count at how many times they've searched the Stilinski household while invited and not invited.

"So go home or wherever the hell you want to go. I'm not keeping you here." Derek replied easily as he flipped through papers in drawers. 

Scott shuffled from foot to foot in indecision before he sighed and helped Derek search. "I don't know what's creepier. Being in the Sheriff's bedroom at all with my best friend being gone for half a year, or being in the Sheriff's room while my best friend gone for half a year _with you_!"He looked under the bed and through the nightstand drawers before giving a frustrated sigh. "What exactly are we looking for that we haven't found in the last six months?"

"Stiles is the last family member the Sheriff has in the town, right?" Derek asked as he put everything back in order and then headed towards the closet. 

"Yeah..."

"All he's told us was that he sent Stiles away, right?" Derek asked as he opened the closet and pushed the hanging clothes to the sides. 

"Right..."

"I may not have known them as long as you have, but even in the short time I did I knew how strong the Sheriff's bond was with Stiles. Do you really think they've gone so long without any form of correspondence?" Derek demanded as he gave Scott a bit of a glare.

"Well...Danny checked email and phone records. Stiles hasn't popped on the grid for the time he's been gone." Scott answered with a heavy pout. He knew that leading up to Stiles's disappearance he wasn't the best of what a friend should be. He felt really crappy about it. Scott and the rest also notice how important Stiles was to their impromptu supernatural investigation gang. Stiles _was_  the inside man for law enforcement. Stiles was the man with the plan. Stiles provided rides, support, out side the box thinking that took them double the time to get to. 

"Right...so maybe they went old school." Derek stated and brought Scott out of his brooding. 

"You mean like...letters and postcards?"

"Uh huh..." Derek said as he shuffled through the Sheriff's things, pushing aside pairs of shoes and other boxes until he came across a wooden box. It was a plain wooden box. He tried to open it but it wouldn't. He picked it up and stood, Scott coming closer to see what he got, and tried to open it again. 

It wouldn't. 

"Needs a key?" Scott asked. 

Derek didn't reply as he furrowed his brow and tried to open it again. When he couldn't he frowned deeper.

"What?"

"I just used all of my werewolf strength on it, that's what."

"And it wouldn't open?" Scott asked as he furrowed his own brows. He took the box from Derek and gave it his try, using all of his werewolf strength. "That...that is stuck."

Derek was about to say something when the box gave off a golden glow from the inside.

      
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"Still think we've exhausted all the traces and clues from here?" 

  

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* * *

 

   
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"It's a box..."

"That much we've gathered." Derek deadpanned. 

 

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Then he ordered. "Open it."

Deaton pulled at the lid but it wouldn't budge. "I don't think I can without a key."

"We saw it glow. It's magic. Can't you just...use _Alohamora_ or something?" Scott asked, which gained him a look from both older men. 

"Should I ask where you got this from?" Deaton asked. 

Both wolves remained silent and the Vet sighed. He turned to Scott and reminded him of school and work tomorrow. "You have a full shift tomorrow Scott. As well as practice if I'm correct."

"But!"

"Go Scott. I can't open it. I don't know what's inside." Deaton said and eventually Scott, though resigned, left after sharing a look with Derek. 

The older wolf went to grab the box, but Deaton pulled it away from his grasp. 

"I'll keep a hold of it."

"I think I'll just return it myself." Derek stated as he held his hand out for the box.

"Derek, _stop_!" Deaton used so much authority that it actually surprised Derek. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. They locked intense stares for so long without either of them blinking. 

"Something...is _not_ right! I can _feel_ it! Stiles leaving was...it was...." he glared at the box in Deaton's hands and pointed at it. " _That's_ the first clue we've had in _months_! So hand it over."

"And you'll _what_? You can't open it. If the Sheriff hasn't disclosed any information about Stiles so far, you really think a box is going to change his mind? He's already got you on record as a murder suspect before. You and I both know you got-- you _stole_  this from the Sheriff's _home_! If he doesn't want you to keep snooping he _will_ throw you in jail."

"What's he hiding?" Derek demanded, eyes flashing in his anger.

"Derek..."

"That box _glowed_. This is Beacon _freaking_ Hills! _Nothing_ is what it seems and if you tell me Stiles's disappearance was a coincidence you have _better_ be a better liar than the last time you lied to my face!" Derek roared. 

Deaton didn't looked overly threatened or worried though in the presence of a pissed off werewolf. The vet took a deep breath before answering. "First off, he didn't disappear. He _left_.  Secondly, you know how I told you I used to be an Emissary for your mother?"

The question sort of threw Derek off, so he just nodded. 

"You're right. This _is_ Beacon Hills... _always_ full of secrets. Your family secret was mine to keep, and so I did. Your family isn't the only one in this town with secrets to keep though, but just like yours, they aren't my secrets to tell." 

They had another stare off before Derek growled and looked away, "I just want answers."

"Than have patience."  was Deaton's response.  

* * *

 

"I believe _this_ belongs to you..." Deaton said as he walked into the Sheriff's office at the station. 

The Sheriff looked up from his paperwork to stare at the Vet holding the box in his hands. "It does. What are _you_ doing with it?"

Deaton approached the desk and placed the box down on it. "Derek and Scott." 

The Sheriff sighed deeply before running a hand through his hair before standing up. "Those two just don't know when to quit. I would assume they'd leave it alone."

"Well they brought it to me when they couldn't open it...and they saw it glow. I assumed you'd want it back ASAP."

The Sheriff pulled the box towards him immediately. He ran his hand over the top and looked at it intently. "I haven't heard from Stiles in about a week. He told me he was going on a quest."

"So this could be news of his return?" Deaton asked as he watched the Sheriff waved his hand over the box.

There was a light gust of wind in the room though the doors and window were closed. On top of the box the Caduceus symbol of Mercury burned in gold until the box opened. A gold light illuminating for a moment before fading away. 

    
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"So what's Stiles got to say?" Deaton asked after he saw the Sheriff's eyes scan the letter in his hands.

"It's not from Stiles."

   
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Deaton looked down at the box before looking at the Sheriff again. "I thought this was a secure line between you two? That only you two could open it."

"Because we both carry the blood of Mercury..." the Sheriff said evenly. He passed over the letter to the Vet. "It's not from Stiles. And that's not the part the scares me the most."

The Vet read the letter and then read it two more times before asking the Sheriff, "What are you going to do?"

The Sheriff was thoughtful for a moment before looking up with a fierce expression. "Looks like I'll be using some of my vacation days."

"Quite the vacation. Not too much R and R as I'd personally like myself. So...when do we leave?" Deaton asked.

John looked at him with a raised brow, "We?"

"Camp Jupiter was as much my home as it was yours. If it's going to be under fire then I know where I'm needed. Besides...Derek's and Scott will only get more annoying once they realize you're gone. Stiles's absence really shook them up. I am _not_ going through that."

The Sheriff smirked as he placed the letter back in the box and picked it up. Grabbing his keys he headed towards the door, "What would our fathers think."

"Most likely asking where they went wrong." Deaton replied with a smirk.

Giving a nod in reply, the Sheriff drove to his house to pick up a few of his things he had under magical lock down. Much like his _Mercury Mail Box_ , there was a secret compartment in their house that could only be opened by him. He got his modernized armor and weapon of choice before driving to the clinic to let the Vet get his things. While Deaton grabbed what he needed, the Sheriff made a few calls and announced his sudden vacation. The Vet placed a piece of paper on the door stating he was away on business and directions to the next closest clinic for emergency cases.

Inside was a vague note to Scott, who would hopefully care for the animals they had inside while he was gone. 

Soon the son of Mercury and Apollo were off towards Camp Jupiter. 

* * *

            

War reached the Gates of Camp Jupiter, but the Roman Legion stood it's ground and kept the war from reaching the civilian sectors. Monsters from all types seem to show up. At first not many known to Roman or Greek mythology, but the bloodshed of demigods drew out the Roman monsters that were near by. 

Frank and Deimos reported to Reyna along with Stiles. They arrived a day after the battle had already started. Stiles strayed behind when he ran into his father. Seeing the Sheriff in uniform was a common sight for Stiles. He always knew his father to be authoritative and powerful. But seeing his father in modernized Roman armor while holding a crossbow and having a sword on his back was something Stiles never thought he'd see. 

It was a good look on his father. 

They hugged it out, but didn't drag it out. Work needed to be done and their home needed to be defended. 

While Frank helped Reyna strategize, Deimos jumped into the heat of the battle and unleashed the inner fury, rage, and terror that came with being the son of Ares. Like his name sake, Deimos had a limited control over making his enemies feel such terror, it paralyzed them with fear. If only for a second, but it was the only second Deimos or anyone else needed to strike the enemy down. 

  

The battle raged on into nightfall. Demigods and Roman spirits, fauns, and anyone available all took turns doing something. Fighting, healing, defense, offense, look out.

 

Stiles and the Sheriff fought back to back, slaying monsters and keeping other less experienced demigods alive. The foot soldiers began to dwindle by the third night and it became clearer as to who was the leader. Though Stiles had never seen her, it was no doubt in his mind that she was the one controlling the army of monsters that was attacking his new home. He still didn't understand what the hell was going on and how it involved him, but he did what he always did. He got into the face of the beast that wanted him dead. 

He snuck away from his father and made it through the battle ground until he was face to face with the leader.

" _Scintilla_." she greeted with a smirk and in Latin.

"Yeah, yeah...I'm a Spark. But I'm the Spark that's going to burn you to the ground for doing this to my home!" Stiles cried. 

She just continued to smirk at him. Her blue eyes cold and nearly dead, she was very creepy looking, and reminded him of Bella LaStrange from _Harry Potter_. "You poor boy...you haven't realized."

Stiles looked confused, but refused to lower his weapon. He would _not_ underestimate his enemy. Especially not the leader!

"We burn...you burn _with_ us. _All_ of you burn with us!" 

Stiles concentrated and focused. He's been around people with super powers for months and has taken in every word of advice. Letting his emotions help him delve into his core, let him _feel_ anything and everything and it was working! It did feel like a burning sensation. Like his blood was becoming fuel and in his mind's eyes he could imagine it. He focused harder than he's ever had in his life and he concentrated on her. 

In a plume of green fire, she cumbusted. 

It took a moment fore Stiles to realized what had happened. He could still feel his eyes burning with the intensity of the power that flowed through his body at the moment. In the background he heard the agonized yelling of the woman he just magically set aflame, but it was distant in his ears. 

"Sorry, but there's only one Katniss Everdeen, and you ain't her sweetheart." Stiles muttered as he watched the flames disappear. 

Around him monsters began to disappear or run or be finished off by the legion. Stiles continued to watch until the last of the fire was gone. 

* * *

 

 

The next few days were about debriefing and cleaning up. He was honest with Reyna and Frank, as well as with Hunter, Deimos, his father, and even the Vet who apparently was also a demigod. With how cryptic both he and Newt were, he saw the family resemblance. 

He knew that Reyna and Frank, and even his father and Deaton were still keeping things from him, but at the moment...he just wanted a good night's sleep and the chance to sleep in the next morning. 

So naturally he couldn't sleep a wink and was awakened at 5 am sharp the following morning. 

Clean up was still going on, but Reyna called a break to make an announcement. She and Stiles shared another one of their rather confusing stare lock-downs before she announced something he wasn't sure he'd hear so soon. 

"Welcome to the Legion, Legionnaire Stiles Stilinski, Legacy of Mercury." 

* * *

 

"So...what are you going to do?" his father asked him as they walked away when the opportunity presented itself. His dad had told him bits of what was going on back in Beacon while Stiles recounted more about what was going on at Camp.

Stiles shrugged, honestly having no clue. "I still need training. There are more questions than answers. And I _just_ became a Legionnaire. It would be rude to suddenly leave..." 

The Sheriff smiled as he pulled Stiles towards him in a one arm hug.

"I respect your choice."

"What will you and the doc tell the pack back home?" Stiles asked curiously.

"Actually...Alan and I talked. With how things are at the moment, and with how things are probably going to get, we've decided to stay. Polish some of those skills of ours that have gone rusty over the years."

Stiles scoffed, "You just don't wanna face Scott's puppy eyes."

"Like you would?" the Sheriff countered.

Stiles raised his hands in defense. They walked in silence a bit longer before Stiles looked up at his dad and sincerely said, "Thank you...for sending me away. I really did need this. I am now in the smack middle of something potentially huge, which as a book nerd is like a dream come true. It's terrifying as hell, sorry, _heck_! _And_ I'm getting stronger _and_ making new friends and allies that really care about me and can see past themselves."

The Sheriff placed both hands on Stiles's shoulder and smiled at him. "You're a hero, kid. Your story is just starting. It'll be terrifying, it'll be amazing...it'll be one for the books."

When they called in everyone for the next shift in jobs, Stiles pulled the Sheriff along. "Come on dad...we've got work to do." 

* * *

 

 [(Link to pic in case pic is unavailable)](https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpl1/v/t1.0-9/11960170_957054431019492_7902197502549208878_n.jpg?oh=e081223f4bacaf42265e115a0ccebde3&oe=5723C7A1)

(Stiles and the Sheriff after the battle in Roman armor)

(Credit to: [Gatas Sketches](https://www.facebook.com/Gatas-Sketches-1502207216695669/) )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a series story. This part of the story is done. The next story will be called "Legionnaire". Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed the ride and will hopefully join us on the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> As much as this is Roman based there will be Greek influences.  
> I'm mostly using the characters of the Heroes of Olympus series. I want to do a story where the pack is basically losing Stiles and their jealous as Stiles makes new (demigod) friends and bails on the pack like the pack bailed on Stiles...but I need background on relationships/friendships Stiles has with the demigods which will have to be fullfilling...which is this story. 
> 
> The series title is in Spanish not Latin because I know Spanish...and I don't trust Google translate. In English from Spanish it's called, "The Thieving Wolf of New Rome." 
> 
> I want to estimate there'll be four chapters. Legacy of Rome, Running with Wolves, The Fourth Cohort, and The Return. I want to make it short and sweet and to the point...lets hope I can stay focused and get to some pack feeling awful and guilty about ignoring Stiles!
> 
> You can follow me on twitter: @_The_Young_Wolf


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